The Coffee Diaries
by Loqutor
Summary: Diego Armando tells us the story of his journey to hell and back, starting with the event that began it all--meeting the love of his life, Mia Fey.


Black as the starless night, hotter and bitterer than Hell itself…that is coffee. I have been to hell and back. How did it all happen? Though it is not her fault in any way, it began with the woman I love—Mia Fey.

I first met her when she took a tour of my place of employment—the Law Offices of Marvin Grossberg and co. At the time, I was reviewing the files for my latest case and drinking my twenty-seventh cup of coffee of the day when there was a knock on the door. "Yes?" I called. The door opened slightly, and Marvin himself peered in. "Oh, I'm surprised to see you here, sir; and completely sober to boot."

His expression grew into a frown. "If it weren't for your outstanding win record…" he muttered quietly.

"Did you say something, old man?" I probed.

"N-no. A-HEMM!" He loudly cleared his throat, as he was prone to do as a measure to boost his confidence. "We've got a new intern here today, and I'd like you to show her the ropes."

I swallowed down a sip of coffee. "A woman? That's just great. I hope she doesn't start PMSing on the stand in the middle of a trial."

"I ask you to refrain from making such comments around her. She looks promising," Grossberg tried feebly to reprimand me.

"What looks promising?" I asked him, finishing off my coffee and standing up to refill the mug. "Her credentials or her rack?"

"Both…er, I mean, she has an aura about her. One that says 'I can do the job'."

I moved towards him. "I'm not too sure about your judgment, but fine, if you insist, I'll show the little muchacha around."

Grossberg led me down the hall into the waiting room, where I saw a young lady sitting comfortably on one of the leather seats with her eyes closed. She had long brown hair, and wore a black blazer with a white interior. It was easy to see why the old man had caught himself speaking admirably about her bust. He loudly cleared his throat again, and the girl stood up. She was tall for a woman—a mere three inches shorter than me. "Oh! Hello again, Mr. Grossberg."

I reached my hand out to her. "Upon meeting a beautiful lady, always ask for her name—that's one of my rules."

"M-Mia Fey," she said, blushing.

I smiled, glad that I'd made such an amazing impression on her. "I'm Diego Armando. Number of cases lost: zero."

"I'm sure the two of you will get along splendidly," Grossberg said. "I'll leave you alone and go do some office work."

Once he was out of earshot I clarified. "By 'office work', he means he'll be downing another bottle of Scotch."

Mia rolled her eyes. "And this man's going to be my mentor?"

I sized her up. "You don't have an attorney's badge, so you obviously haven't taken the Bar yet. Are you in law school right now?"

"Not yet," she said, "But I'll be enrolling at Ivy University in the fall. I'm just here to learn courtroom procedure for the time being, and once I get my badge, I'm hoping Mr. Grossberg will give me a permanent position here."

I snorted. "If I took that approach to life, I'd be taking caffeine capsules instead of drinking coffee."

She looked puzzled. "Um, I have no idea what you mean by that."

I handed her my coffee. "Here, have some. You need to get your brain working."

"Well, excuse me!" she said indignantly, "But I don't see the point in always speaking in metaphors."

"Oh my," I said, amused by her sudden defensiveness. "Kitten's got claws. What I mean is, you have to get a hold on your bearings. I don't just drink coffee for the caffeine; I also drink it for the taste. A capsule just doesn't have the right combination of bitterness and acidity to carry the same punch as coffee."

"I see," she said, and seemed to calm down. "So, what do you recommend?"

"What I recommend," I said, staring intensely at her, "Is that you follow my lead. At this point, you can't possibly make it on your own. The training wheels are on, and they'll come off when you least expect it."

Her face was red again, but for a different reason. "Look here, just because you've won all your cases and you're really hot doesn't mean…er, um…I mean, stop condescending me like that!"

I held my coffee cup out to her. "What is at the bottom of this mug, Mia Fey?" I asked her.

She looked in it. "Coffee, of course."

I drank it all down and showed her—a picture of a scale had been engraved on the bottom. "That's what you need to know."

Mia blinked. "Again, I find myself unable to comprehend your meaning."

"Then I'll explain…again. Coffee is dark and opaque, much like the average court case. What you need to do is to get rid of all the cover-ups and lies. No matter what they are, even if they help you, lies must be stricken down in order for you to see the truth. And once you see the truth," I pointed to the inside of my mug, "You'll find that justice can be properly administered. Always tell the truth, even if it hurts—that's one of my rules. I'll never lie to you, Kitten. Not even if it would make you feel better."

"That's…quite refreshing, actually." She said.

"Really?" I was surprised.

"Yes. All throughout high school, I disliked being put into groups with guys, because they kept patting me on the back and no matter what I did, they congratulated me, even if I did a bad job. Their patronizing was absolutely infuriating. Of course, I hated being grouped with girls even more, because girls are such selfish, hateful, judgmental things."

"Ha! It seems the world of women is not so elegant after all."

Mia smiled and shook her head. "Oh no, I assure you, the 'Sisterhood' is a myth. We women could take over the world if we could just get our act together. If you put two single women in a room with a man as good-looking as you, even if they're best friends, they'll fight to the death for him."

I put a hand on her shoulder. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Kitten. At least, it will with me."

She blushed. "That's…good to know."

"So, shall we begin the tour?"

"Of course, Mr., um, Armani." She couldn't look me in the eye, but somehow mustered the courage to pry my hand off her shoulder.

"Armando," I corrected her. "Follow me." I led her past the waiting room and into a hall. I opened the first door on the right. "This is the file room. Records of every case that every lawyer in the history of Grossberg Law Offices has ever worked on are in here. I recommend that you make it a habit of stopping by this place once a week as soon as your real job gets going. You never know what useful information you might find."

"How are the files organized?"

"Alphabetically by the attorney in charge of the case. If in doubt, just look it up on the computer in the corner." I gestured to where it was. "It's an old machine. Slow, but it does the job. Sort of like our court system."

Mia laughed. "That's so true."

"There's a Xerox machine in the next room over in case you need something on hand." I pointed to it, then gestured for her to follow me. "Come on." Next up was the break room. "I want you to spend as little time as possible here. In fact, you should only go in there if you want to bring me my coffee mixes or to get your lunch."

She glared at me. "I'm not here to be your secretary."

"Ha!" I found myself liking her more each minute. "You're certainly keeping those claws sharp, Kitten. I never said you had to be my secretary. I don't need one. I'm just saying that because the break room's coffee tastes like shit, so I brew my own in my office. I don't let anybody else drink it, but you're certainly welcome to it anytime you'd like. Just make sure the machine's always full."

"Oh," Mia hung her head. "Sorry for jumping to conclusions."

"I'll let it slide for now," I said, "But just remember, that's entirely the wrong approach to take in the courtroom." I lifted her head. "Chin up, Kitten. Everybody makes mistakes when they start off. I'll show you how to do each thing once; I'll help you the second time, but from the third time onward, you're on your own—that's one of my rules."

She laughed again. "Just how many rules do you have?"

"Lots. You don't need to learn them; they're rules I make for myself. So, why did you choose Grossberg Law Offices to intern at, if I may ask?"

Her face turned somber. "Can you keep a secret, Mr. Armando?"

"Sure thing, Kitten," I said. "What is it?"

She explained it to me. "I come from a long line of spirit mediums. My mother, who was the Matriarch of the family, despite being the younger sister, was hired by the police to help with a case. The man that she named as guilty was found innocent in court, and word leaked out about it, which ruined her career. I looked up the names of the people involved, and one of the people who leaked information about the incident was Marvin Grossberg. Do you know anything about that?"

I refilled my coffee mug. "Can't say I do, but I wouldn't put it past the old man. Sounds just like the sort of thing he'd do. But how did he leak the information? He's not exactly a well-known journalist."

"He sold them to a man named Redd White, the CEO of BlueCorp. White published it, and that's that. I'm going to use Grossberg to gather more information about White, and expose him for the blackmailer he is."

I whistled. "You've got guts, Kitten. White's got dirt on everybody, and if he doesn't have it, he'll just make it up, and people will believe him."

"I'm taking him down anyway. My mother disappeared thirteen years ago, and I miss her terribly."

"Ha!" I smiled. "Don't ever lose that grit conviction of yours, Kitten. It'll serve you well." I paused for a brief minute. "I have a confession to make: the moment Grossberg told me you were a woman, I decided I'd try to persuade you not to work here. Most women, I think, should stay in the kitchen, but you…you're different. You may not have the proper training, Mia, but you have what it takes to be a lawyer. So, fret not, Kitten; you're here to receive the proper training, right?"

"Of course, Mr. Armando," she smiled slightly.

"Now, I'll show you to your office," I took her down the hall to the office across from mine.

She opened the door and peered inside. "It's awfully small."

"Ha! Of course it is. You're an intern."

"I'm not complaining," she said confidently. "I didn't expect anything more."

"I'm still going to give you a bit more than the other interns," I said, "Because you seem more promising. You may have the coffee from my office anytime you want. It's Blue Mountain. I have a variety of flavor mixes, ranging from white chocolate to hazelnut to French Vanilla. As long as you put more beans in every time the pot is empty, you'll be fine. Any other questions?"

"Yeah," she said, "Are you free for dinner tonight?"

I laughed, but her expression didn't change. "Wait…you're seriously asking me out?"

"Does that intimidate you?" She asked.

"Not at all, Kitten. In fact, it's quite refreshing. Usually, it's men who do the asking. I'd love to have dinner with you tonight. I get off at seven. How's that work for you?"

She gave a wide smile. "That'll be very nice. If you do the driving, I'll pay for the meal."

"Nice compromise. I'd rather not you did the driving, comprende?"

Mia laughed again. "Having been around a lot of women myself, I can honestly say that women in general are rotten drivers. It was my cousin Mark who taught me how to drive, so I'm better than most. Besides, I left my motorcycle at my apartment."

I raised an eyebrow. "You ride a hog, Kitten?"

"Yes," she said proudly. "It gives you a nice sensation as the wind rushes by."

"A woman on a motorcycle, huh? That's…pretty hot."

She made her voice deeper, which made her even more sexually appealing. "See you tonight, Mr. Armando." She stepped into her office, shutting the door behind her. It was going to be a struggle to act professional in her presence, but I was sure I could manage.

When quitting time came around, I filled my thermos with coffee and turned off the lights and coffee machine in my office. Mia was already waiting for me. "Right on time, Mr. Armando."

"Where did you have in mind, Kitten?" I asked. "It better not be a family restaurant. Those places are noisy and full of kids."

"Of course not," She said, "I was thinking of Sebastian's."

"Do they have good coffee there?" I inquired.

"The best." Mia smiled. "They also make amazing pizzas."

I led her out of the office to my car. "As long as they've got good coffee, that's all that matters."

Mia looked up at me with a somber face. "You're going to ruin your health, my friend."

I said nothing until we reached the car. "Get in, Kitten, and be careful not to scratch the leather." I started the car and backed out, taking a sip of coffee. Mia was fiddling with the radio too much to have a conversation, and I was enjoying my coffee too much. When we arrived, I had planned to open the door for her, but she did it herself—she was a true feminist, not one of those PC princesses who expect men to change everything for them. Such behavior was not common amongst girls from Middle-Class homes, but rather from Lower-Class homes. It intrigued me. We walked in, waited to be seated, and then got up and selected our pizza from a buffet. I asked the waitress to bring me coffee on a regular basis. Once we began eating, I broke the ice. "So, Kitten, where are you from originally?"

"Kurain Village. It's a small settlement outside of Little Tokyo. My mother was the Matriarch of the village, which were mainly spirit mediums. My father rarely visited because he felt left out; the medium abilities only work in women."

"So," I wondered, "How did your mother become the Matriarch?"

"My aunt was originally first in line since she was older, but my mother had stronger powers. I could tell that Aunt Morgan hated her. She was quite bitter about being deprived of her powerful position, and she was rather harsh on me after my mother left. In fact, that's another reason I became a lawyer; I got tired of all the family feuding that's been going on for generations, and I don't want to have to fight my little sister for the position of Master."

"Wait a second," I said, "You never told me you had a sister. What's she like?"

Unlike when she'd been mentioning the feuding, Mia now looked happy as she spoke. "Her name's Maya. She's seven years younger than me. When our mother left, she and I grew quite close." She reached into her purse and pulled out a photo album, which had only two pictures in it. One was a young girl with black hair in a topknot and a large strand on each side, both of which had a large purple bead hanging from it. Her smile looked a little vacant, but I knew better than to say so to Mia. The other picture was of a middle-aged woman with her hair in a tight bun. "They're lovely ladies," I said, handing the album back to her, "But not as lovely as you."

She took it back. "When someone like you says that, for some reason, it sounds more sincere. But enough about me, what's your story?"

I sighed. "I suppose I owe you, now that you've told me yours. My parents were illegal immigrants. They jumped the U.S.-Mexican border back in '83, and one year later, I was born. My dad worked for a landscaping firm, and my mom was a nanny. Since I hardly ever saw my parents, I joined a gang to find a new father figure. One night, we were robbing a liquor store, and I was the last out when the cops arrived. They caught me and hauled me in. That wasn't the first time I'd been arrested, but it was the first time it actually meant something; usually the cops would yell at me in English. I could understand them just fine, but this time, the Sergeant spoke to me in perfect Spanish; he explained that his parents were from El Salvador. His name was Rodriguez. He didn't yell at me, but he did speak firmly. He told me that I could come by anytime I wanted to talk to him about something, and he invited me over to his house for dinner the night after. I went there, and I had a very pleasant chat with him and his wife. They were infertile, so I suppose they kind of wanted me to be a surrogate son to them. Right before he left, he said that if he ever heard of me committing another crime, he'd drop me off the top of the U.S. Bank Tower. I would have laughed, but he sounded deadly serious; scared the hell out of me. From then on, I went to school every day and studied my butt off. My parents were very proud of me, and Sgt. Rodriguez got me a scholarship for college. I studied Law at Ivy U, which my parents paid for. I couldn't stay mad at them for not being there, because I knew they were trying to build a better future for me. They would have liked you; shame they passed away last year."

Mia stared, wide-eyed. "You were in a gang?"

I nodded. "I've even got the tattoos to prove it," I gave her a sly glance. "If you play your cards right, Kitten, you may just get to see them all someday."

"I believe you." She finished her pizza in silence. When we got the check, she paid it, and I took her home.

I walked her up to the door. She was fiddling with her keys, about to open the lock. "Good night, Kitten. See you in the morning."

"Good night, Diego," She unlocked the door, and looked at me. Then, she leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. "I look forward to working with you."

"Me too, Kitten. Me, too." The door closed behind her.


End file.
